The Doll House (originally by Chhi)
by navysave
Summary: I'm taking over The Doll House by Chhi. I suggest you go and read (or re-read) hers before reading this as I'm just continuing with absolutely no warning ;D I hope I do it justice and get it right! I'm also not entirely sure why I'm taking on another story but as the opportunity presented itself I found myself unable to decline.


**A/N: So I'm taking over Chhi's 'The Dollhouse', I hope I can do it justice for you Chhi! (And the followers/reviewers of the story.)**

As soon as I heard the tone in Catherine's voice, I knew I had said something that I couldn't go back on. I couldn't un-admit to being scared, to being broken. I hadn't even meant to tell her and now I'm regretting that I can't seem to keep my stupid mouth shut. I pull away from her embrace and meet confused, concerned eyes.  
"Abby?" She questions quietly and I just shake my head. No words are coming out of my mouth, I'm just shaking my head and pulling away from her. I finally extract myself from her arms.  
"No, I can't." She frowns in confusion.  
"You can't what, honey?" I keep shaking my head, at this point I'm not even sure if I have control over that movement.  
"I can't do this, I can't talk to you about this." I say and I bolt from her house, ignoring the fact that I have pretty much no idea where I am and the fact that I'm wearing the same tshirt and jeans I slept in. I don't care. I don't care that people are staring at me as I run down the street. I don't care that my feet are bare, I don't feel the rocks or the shards of glass or whatever is on this street. I just run and keep running until I end up outside of a shabby gas station, praying to God that it has a bathroom as I rush inside. I smile at the girl behind the counter who looks alarmed at my presence, no doubt wondering where my shoes are and what happened to cause the unsightly gash on my face. I head to the bathroom and promptly throw up anything that was in my stomach, which wasn't a lot. I swill my mouth out with water from the tap and then make my way back to the store, not before checking my bra and finding fifty dollars. I grin and pick up a cold bottle of water and a pack of gum.  
"I hope you don't mind me asking but... Are you alright?" The girl asks after I've paid her. I nod and smile.  
"Killer hangover." I supply. "Have you got a phone so I can call a cab?" The girl nods and reaches in her pocket, pulling out her cell phone and handing it to me. I dial the number and look at the girl. "Uh... Where am I?" She gives me the address of the store and I'm told to cab should only take ten minutes to arrive. I pass the cell phone back to the girl and smile my thanks before leaving. As I get outside, I pat my back pocket and sigh. I must've left my cigarettes at Catherine's along with my shoes. Damn. I turn quickly and head back into the store smiling sheepishly. "Uh, can I get a pack of smokes and a lighter?" The girl giggles and nods, passing me them both and waving away my payment.  
"It's okay." She says and I nod slowly before leaving the store. I clearly must look like shit if she's taking pity on me and buying my smokes. Damn.  
**-pagebreak-**  
I thrust ten dollars into the cab drivers hand and exit the vehicle, wanting to get inside my apartment and, more importantly, inside my bed. I trudge up the, what feels like, millions of stairs, wishing there was an elevator or that I at least had shoes. I don't know why I didn't expect Catherine and Sara to be waiting at my door, my shoes and purse in Sara's hands. Damn. I resist the urge to curse my bad luck out loud and decide to ignore their presence and let myself into my home. I don't bother to close the door behind me but I don't vocally invite them in, either. Though they do come in. Sara stands awkwardly, leaning on the front door she shut behind her while Catherine sits me on a high stool and checks my feet. I don't bother arguing with her, or refusing to let her do this. I'm feeling a bit like an idiot for running away.  
"I'll uh, make us some coffee." Sara states before walking into my kitchen. I groan and cringe, making Catherine look at me worriedly, thinking I'm in pain. I'm not. I just remembered that my kitchen is littered in empty beer bottles and take out containers. And I probably don't have any milk for coffee. Sara quickly returns with two mugs in hand and passes one to me. The other is for her and Catherine frowns at her. "There's no milk and no sugar... I know you hate it black." I watch the emotions play over Catherine's face. I can tell that she's happy that Sara remembered this bit of information about her. I take a tentative sip of my coffee and pull a face.  
"That tastes like shit." I state, standing and taking Sara's cup from her grasp and walking back to the kitchen to pour it down the sink. I watch the liquid swirl away, focusing on the sink until I hear Sara and Catherine join me.  
"I was enjoying that." Sara states and I turn, a fake smile plastered on my face.  
"Liar." I say, opening a cupboard and reaching high on my tip toes to pull a tin from the top shelf. In this tin is my favourite, surprisingly expensive coffee. "Trust me, this is better." I say as I make us a new coffee in silence. I can almost hear the concern radiating off Catherine. I am perfectly aware that my recent behaviour has not been the most consistent. I mean, not even half an hour ago I was crying in her arms. I hand Sara the drink and she takes a sip, her eyes lighting up immediately. I just smile and nod knowingly before walking between them and out to the balcony. Again, I don't vocally invite them along but they come anyway. It's like I've acquired a silent fan club. I place my mug down on the table and rest my forearms on the rail, looking over. I've never been scared of heights but I can still tell when I'm alarmingly high up somewhere. I'm focusing on the ground below me so intently that I don't even realise I've lit up a cigarette and smoked half of it. I'm not sure if Sara and Catherine haven't spoken, or I just haven't heard them. I turn to face them, my back resting on the railing. "I'm sorry." I say, looking at Catherine. She smiles gently and takes a tentative step toward me, away from Sara who is leaning against the door frame.  
"What for?" She asks and her voice is soft and gentle and full of concern, which of course makes me feel like a huge bitch for doing that to her. I throw my cigarette off the balcony.  
"For making you worry." I state, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I despise making other people feel anything other than positive emotions. I feel warm hands on my shoulders and then I'm pulled into another embrace. My hands hang limp next to my body as my head is pulled onto Catherine's shoulder. I can't help the tears that fall as she whispers her forgiveness. I can't help the way my hands move and cling to the sides of her shirt as I fall apart, again, in her arms.  
"I... We just want you to talk to us, Abby." Catherine says softly into my ear and I nod. I know I should talk about it, a small part of me wants to but I just don't know what will happen. I don't know if I can handle re-living it. I step back from Catherine and smile slightly, this time it's not fake, despite how small it is.  
"We should go inside." I say, nodding determinedly at Sara as I pass her and sit on my couch, waiting for them to join me. I sigh after we've been sat in silence for a few minutes. "It's not the first time my life has been in someone elses hands." I state after a while. "You would think that I'd be used to it now, I should be. I should be able to forget it and move on, because I can. I'm not dead, they didn't take my life." I'm staring at the coffee table, I daren't look at either of them. "But in a way, they did. They took my control. They took my faith and my hope. And each time, I recover. It takes longer each time, but I bounce back. Just a little less bouncier." I chuckle humourlessly. "Each time, it takes something from me but leaves me with this paranoia, these stupid fucking trust issues." I release a shaky breath. "To be honest, I'm waiting for one of you to pull a gun on me. Not because I think you're capable of that but just because that's what happens to me. There's clearly something about me that people want to remove me from this Earth." I sigh again. "I hate that everything in my head is a conflict. I hate that half of me is urging me to continue telling you both this and the other half is reminding me I'm selfish. I wasn't the only one in that room." I say, looking up at Sara who is beginning to shake her head.  
"I didn't get shot." She says, frowning incredulously. "Talking about your feelings isn't being selfish." I just raise my eyebrows in acknowledgement and I hear her sigh. "I wish you'd believe me." She says and I shrug.  
"Me too." I say. And I do, I wish I could feel like that. "But years of being taught that I am selfish aren't going to go away just from one statement." I resist the urge to clamp my hand over my mouth. I wasn't supposed to say that out loud. I just hang my head and return to staring at the coffee table.  
"You were taught wrong." Catherine says after some time. "You made Maxwell focus on you so Sara and Brass didn't get hurt." I begin to shake my head. "You took a bullet so they didn't."  
"But Brass did get hurt." There's a guilty look on my face, I know there is because I know how guilty I feel. I hear Sara chuckle a bit.  
"He's been through worse than a chair smacked around his head." She says. "And he'd have something to say if he knew you were blaming yourself for that. You aren't responsible for Maxwell's actions."  
"But I was responsible for killing him." I say it so softly that I'm not even sure I said it aloud at all. I practically hear Catherine's head snap up to look at Sara, I can almost feel the concerned looks passing between them. I shake my head. They're going to think I'm some rookie who can't handle the job, my dream job, and I'm going to lose it. They're going to fire me, 'for my own good' probably. Shit. I push myself off the sofa and head to the kitchen, pulling out a beer with such familiarity that I hardly notice I've opened it and took a gulp already. I don't even register that it's not even lunchtime yet, and even in Vegas this is a little early for drinking. I know that I shouldn't be turning to the bottle as easily as this, and that's not going to do anything for them thinking I'm not right for the job. I pour the beer down the sink and set the now empty bottle on the side. I'll wait until after they're gone. I turn to return back to the living room, only now noticing that Catherine was leaning against the door frame watching me. She smiles.  
"I'm glad you didn't drink that beer." I don't know what to say. "Come back and talk to us, Abby." She says, holding out a hand which my hand grasps immediately. I let her pull me back to the couch and sit me down. I let her mother me, it's nice and it's something she's probably been dying to do for months.  
"You saved three people's lives, Abby." Sara states seriously.  
"But I killed a man." I reply, quickly. My mouth is running on auto-pilot. "I took his life. I took a son, a brother, a friend... God, he could've been a father." At that thought, I choke back a sob but I'm unsuccessful as Catherine's arm wraps around my back and pulls me close. "This is the first time I've admitted this." Sara pads over to me and places a hand on my knee as she crouches in front of me.  
"Abby, we'd be more worried if you didn't feel guilty." I feel Catherine nod next to me. "You were completely justified in what you did. You saved my life, you saved Kyra and Brass... You saved yourself. You did what you had to do. He put you in that situation, he made you do that and he'd probably be ecstatic that he's made a victim out of you." I gulp. The thought that I'm his victim makes me feel sick.  
"Was he your first?" Catherine asks me and I shake my head. "It doesn't get easier, does it?" She asks, and her tone of voice makes me realise that she knows exactly how I feel.  
"No. No it doesn't." I answer, wiping at my eyes. I notice that my heart doesn't feel as heavy as it has done for the past five months. I notice that my soul feels lighter, my smile doesn't feel forced as I look at the hands on my knee. At first, it was just Sara's hand, but at some point Catherine's hand had joined hers, and their fingers were entwined. It was sweet, and I bet all the money in my bank that they haven't noticed they're effectively holding hands.  
"Is that a smile?" Sara teases. From her crouched position, she can see my face. I chuckle, making that weird noise you make when you laugh after crying.  
"Maybe." I reply, looking up and meeting her eyes. "Thank you." I state, then I turn to Catherine. "Thank you so much."


End file.
